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KNOCK KNOCK (finalized)

NIGHT ONE

After a day filled with drama and stress, all I wanted was to go home and unwind for a little while.  But no, that just wasn't going to happen.
    My car is a piece of shit and decided to overheat all the way to the fucking gas station; so, I spent my first hour off waiting for the temperature to drop on an already sweltering night.  While I waited, I bought a Gatorade with the last two bucks in my pocket, but it was long gone before the car was ready to go. I finally made it home and sat down for a turkey sandwich and some chips.
    I know, the life of a rockstar.
    I had finally drifted off to sleep later in the night and dreams twisted through my head like they always do. I dreamed of being late to work and of course woke up two hours early. After thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling, sleep returned and then, of course, I woke up late after dreaming of places I've never been, but one thing stuck in my head
    The sound of Knock Knock Knock.

NIGHT TWO

They say the strangers in dreams are not really strangers at all.  The human brain remembers faces of people just passing by, and if that's the case, then where did I meet all these fucked up people?  It's true I work with some assholes and bitches but they've never really struck me as devils before.
    Those fuckers, they love to torment me.  I dreamed of doing various stupid things like walking down hallways or driving the car, but as always with dreams, something goes wrong like getting lost or the dream melds into something else and those fuckers, those strangers who are faceless in life, are always there at the end.  They laugh at my failures and taunt me until the dream shifts to something else.
    Needless to say, sleep was fitful.  Then, out of the murk and laughter, came a pounding in my head and I awoke just as the sun was rising, still tired and ornery.

NIGHT THREE

The beer was a welcome relief.  Cool and smooth and it seemed to calm my nerves.  The day just seemed to go on and on and everything everyone said to me just grated on my nerves.  I snapped at the only person I consider a friend, oh well, fuck 'em.  Grow up and get a pair. Maybe I'll go see Dad tomorrow and unwind.
    The dreams, man, God I wish you'd give me a break for once.  Those faces were back but this time they didn't laugh or even smile.  This time they bickered and whispered behind my back, not talking to me but maybe talking about me.   Who knows and who gives a shit?  Let them talk because obviously they have nothing better to talk about.  All of a sudden it seems like my life is on display and the crowds are gathering for a grand show-
    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
    I sit up in the bed, covered in sweat.  It's only 5:30 in the fucking morning, and I'm wide awake.

NIGHT FOUR

Well, my visit was a bust.  Dad's an E.R. doctor, and he was on his break.  We shot the shit for a few minutes.  Hey, how are you?  How's life?  Are you still writing in that diary?  Yes, I am and I feel like an idiot every time.  I brought up the trouble with my sleep, or lack thereof, but as soon as I did, he got a call.  Multiple car crash victims just rolled in, and he had to go back.  Love you, see you later, be good.  Etcetera...
    I've got the day off tomorrow, so, fuck it.  I'm sick of those dream people and that knocking.  I've got a couple of Monsters in the fridge and the Xbox is calling my name.  Time to kick some ass.
    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
    I jerk awake, slumped over on the couch.   A bag of chips and a game controller in my lap and two empty energy drink cans on the coffee table. Must've dozed off.  The microwave clock glared at me:  3:00 AM.

NIGHT FIVE

I'm so fucking tired.  I think I'll pop a couple of sleep aids and just sleep through all the voices and knocking.  But nope.  I remember sitting on a stool in the middle of a circle of people, in a sea of darkness, with a single ray of light shining down on me.  Some of laughing, some were whispering, and somewhere there was a baby crying.  I tried to block them out but, they just kept on.
    "Hey, guys, knock it off. Will you?" I said to them
    But they stepped it up a notch.  I tried to get up to walk away but couldn't, it was like I was chained down.  "Come on! Enough already!"
    That just seemed to entice them.  I was getting pissed and started rocking back and forth to free myself from this stool but to no avail.  I lashed out at them with obscenities but they just got louder and louder until they were screaming, and the baby's wails turned into an utmost shriek of terror.  Until suddenly-
    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
    All went silent, even me, and a single voice, deep with malevolence, uttered, "Let me out."

NIGHT SIX

Apparently, I passed out at work today and they called an ambulance for me.  First nice thing they ever did for me.  I'm honestly surprised they didn't push me under the counter and kick me a couple good times for good measure.  I woke up in a hospital bed with my Dad standing over me.
    "Rise and shine," he said.
    "That's the best sleep I've had in weeks."
    "That's good to know. How's your head? You hit it at work."
    Now that he mentioned it, my head was a little sore.  I relayed the message and asked, "Do I have a concussion?"
    He shook his head and scribbled something down.  "No, just a little banged up.  You are exhausted, though.  What's wrong?  You haven't been sleeping?"
    "No. Not very well.  I tried to tell you about it the other day but you were busy."
    "Sorry."  He pulled up one of those little stools, sat down and rubbed his eyes.  "Tell you the truth, I haven't been sleeping well since your mother died but I just got used to it.  Sometimes it seems like this place runs on caffeine."  He slapped his knee and relaxed a bit.  "So, what's keeping you up?  What can your doctor give you?"
    I chuckled with him a moment because that's what manly men do: We chuckle.  "I don't know.  Stress?  All I know is that I keep have these dreams of people laughing and talking."
    He frowned a little.  "Something on TV, perhaps.  Anything else?"
    Not sure, but he seemed off somewhat.  "Yeah, there's always this knocking.  Always three knocks.  Knock knock knock.  That's what wakes me up."
    He looked at me and chuckled again like I told him a joke.  "Well, I'm going to give you something to knock you out.  Give you a good night's sleep.  And don't worry, nobody will disturb you."
    He got up to leave.  "Dad, wait.  These dreams are really freaking me out.  I don't really want to sleep."
    "It's for your own good."
    My mother had died when I was ten while they were away on a trip.  I was spending a few weeks with my grandparents when Dad called and said something had happened to Mom.  He was cleared of all  charges, and the official story was that she had died in her sleep.  So, you can see where this whole thing was freaking me the fuck out.  I don't want to sleep but I'm here in a county hospital in the care of my father.  
    Everything should be fine.
    A nurse came in awhile later and shot me up with some night-night juice, and then I drifted off into bliss.
    They were there, all of them, standing around me in the dark room with the one blinding light shining down me.  I lay in a bed, a hospital bed, strapped down and unable to move.  Those people were laughing and whispering again, along with the wailing baby in the shadows.
    Instead of arguing with them, I listened, trying to understand.  "Don't try..."
    "Hush, little one..."
    "He's here."
    I looked around, frantically, but saw no one other than the familiar faces.  "Who?  Who's here?"
    And they moaned, "Him..."
    "The one..."
    "The sleeping one..."
    KNOCK
    "The one who waits..."
    KNOCK
    "Beneath the flesh."
    KNOCK
    I strained against my restraints but it was no good.  Then all went silent and the same deep voice, full of hatred and malice, spoke once again,
    "Let me out."

THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF DR. ELLIS WILLIAMS

Pharmaceuticals are the most wonderful things.  My son, Michael, had collapsed at work and since his employer knew I was a doctor they called me instead of 911.  So, I did what any good father would do, I picked him up.  I remember him telling me about his dream ordeal but I brushed it off and let it play its course.
    All part of the plan.
    To unlock great mysteries one must make great sacrifices.  And, oh, I have sacrificed over the years.  As a teen I came across a grimoire that taught me about old gods who could awaken through human flesh.  I was fascinated, enthralled, hungry for the knowledge of beings so ancient.  One, though, stood out:
    The One Who Waits Beneath The Flesh.
    I spent years offering sacrifices in his name.  Homeless people, men, women and children.  The kind of people no one would miss.  I eventually married and sired a child, all the while offering them to my dark savior.  The One Who Waits finally took my wife on our vacation but he never manifested himself.  So, I offered more souls, of people with mortal injuries seeking medical care.  But to no avail.
   Instead of the hospital, I took Michael to my home and strapped him down in my own little treatment room. It's not much, I know, I'm modest.  I pumped him full of hallucinogens and watched him live out his little fantasy from behind a wall of glass.
    You have to enjoy the little things, after all.
    I pumped him full of sedatives and waited for my dark messiah to appear.  First it was the ripples under the skin, like something was there.  Then Michael started thrashing under his bonds.  But, no sir, I do my work well.
    This is it!  This is really it!
    Michael went into spasms, still asleep, foaming at the mouth.  And then suddenly, he went still.  My heart beating a jackhammer tattoo inside my chest, I watched as Michael's face split in two but there was no skull, there was instead, another face, red with my son's blood.
    At that moment, I had never loved my son so much before.
    The split lengthened, and two talon like fingers emerged and split Michael's body all the way down.  A figure emerged from my son's corpse and walked on unsteady legs to the glass wall separating us.  
    The One Who Waits Beneath The Flesh lifted a hand and knocked on the glass.
    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
    And then uttered three words,
    "Let me out."
   


Written by HadesRising
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